Disclaimer: I own nothing pertaining to The Lord of the Rings. This story was written for entertainment purposes only, not material gain of any kind.

Author's Note: Honestly, I'm a little embarrassed to be posting something here after 5 years, but The Random Scribbler said she'd thought I was dead, and that made me feel guilty. I found this little story in my vaults and finished it up as best I could. I'm probably rusty, for which I apologize, but I hope you enjoy.

...

Aragorn and Legolas Flee from Danger

The light receded rapidly as they raced down the tunnel. "Why," gasped Aragorn humorously, "do we spend so much of our time running away, Legolas?"

Legolas did not reply. It irked him to flee from a fight, even against impossible odds. He would rather fight and die than enter a cave to find refuge in its supposed safety. The Elf-prince could feel the darkness smothering him, the ceiling pressing down, the floor rising up, a colossal weight of earth slowly crushing in... He tried not to think about it. He tried very, very hard.

"Legolas?" asked Aragorn.

"Aah!" said Legolas, jumping about three feet in the opposite direction.

A little blood? That was no trouble at all. He could lose some of it, no problem. Vast quantities of blood? That was manageable. He'd done it before numerous times. An arm half-severed from the body? Well, besides being disgusting, it was nothing Legolas couldn't handle. He'd dealt with similar wounds. He laughed in the face of near amputation.

"It's caves," he said. "I hate caves."

A thoughtful silence fell, broken only by the sound of Aragorn's feet thudding against stone as he ran. Then:

"Why do you hate caves?" Aragorn asked. "You live in a cave, don't you?"

In the darkness, Legolas winced. "That's the part of the problem."

They ran on.

"Why?"

"It's a long story."

"I'd like to know," Aragorn said. "And I think I'm going to pass out soon, by the way. Could we stop running?"

They stopped running.

Legolas Relates the Story of his Trauma

When I was a few hundred years old, and therefore young and impressionable, I went one day on a picnic with my father. Dad wanted to have valuable father/son-bonding time with his youngest child, and my mother wanted me out of the house because I had been running around with my mischievous friends and getting into all sorts of trouble.

"Oh, what a beautiful morning," Dad said enthusiastically, striding out into the dense foliage, spider webs, and mysterious black slime of Mirkwood as only a native of Mirkwood can.

I did not think it was a beautiful morning. I sensed danger, and mentioned this.

"Of course you do, my boy!" Dad said enthusiastically. "This is Mirkwood! There is always danger, all around you! You must learn to ignore all your instincts when walking in Mirkwood, no matter how much they scream for your attention. Only then will you find peace."

To be honest, I did not think this sounded wise, but I decided to follow my father's advice for once and see if any good came of it. I should have known better.

Before we had gone very far, a large battalion of Orcs descended upon us from above!

"There's too many of them!" Dad cried, in classic defeatist style, slashing left and right at the Orcs with his picnic basket. "We must fly while we can!"

Unfortunately, Dad did not indicate a direction in which we could both flee together, so he ended up flying one way, and I flew another. This tactic, or lack of one, confused the Orcs, so instead of chasing either of us, they climbed up their trees to wait for more victims.

After a time, I saw a cave. I thought it would be a good, safe place to hide, so I entered the cave.

The cave was dark. It was smelly. It was also slimy and drippy and murky and altogether unpleasant. Still, I decided that the alternative was probably worse, so I did not turn back. I took three more bold, decisive steps into the cave, humming a happy song.

The cave began to collapse.

I did not flinch. I am, after all, a brave, heroic Elf, and a bunch of huge, falling rocks did not bother me in the least. I got out of the way, and then I stood and watched the rocks seal up the cave's entrance.

Because I am noble and kindhearted, and not prone to self-pity, at this point I spared a few thoughts for my father, who, though I did not know it at the time, had made his way back to the palace and was assuming that I had been kidnapped by the Orcs and taken to Mordor. It wasn't actually an unreasonable assumption to make, since that very thing had happened to me a couple summers before.

I decided to go and look for an alternative exit, seeing as I was trapped. It was pitch black in there, but I felt along the walls so I wouldn't walk into one. I went a little deeper, and a little deeper, and a little deeper into the cave, until I was thoroughly lost.

I wished I had been the one designated to carry the picnic basket.

As I was wishing this, a lot of large, fuzzy creatures with wings started flying around the cave, emitting small, ultrasonic squeaks! Several of these creatures became tangled up in my long, blond, silky hair, but I remained calm. I picked the bats out of my hair, and sprinted through the fluttering mass.

Despite my grim circumstances, I did not allow myself to become too disheartened. "I'm probably not far from a means of egress," I thought. "Or perhaps my father will come and save me."

Alas, I did not know that all of Mirkwood was in mourning because everyone thought I was suffering hideous torments in Mordor.

While I was not suffering as much as everyone thought, my situation did become more unpleasant with alarming rapidity. As I fled the bats, I sprinted directly into an underground lake filled with man-eating fish of huge proportions. I beat off the man-eating fish with one arm, whilst paddling frantically shoreward with the other. I dragged myself out of the water, kicked off the man-eating fish that had been gnawing on my foot, and reflected on how fortunate I am to be an elf and not a man. It is much better, I always find, to be nibbled than actually eaten.

As I lay there, regaining my strength, some Evil Dwarves came to the underground lake to go fishing. Although their intention was to catch a fish, they had no qualms about catching a lost and bewildered elf-prince instead.

Now, the Evil Dwarves hated me because I represent all that is fair and beautiful in this world, while they represent all that is cruel, ugly, and stupid. They decided to beat me up, deeming this to be a good recreational activity.

I endured this new trial with bravery and fortitude, as is my custom.

Before long, some Orcs invaded the caves and started killing the Evil Dwarves with gay abandon. While the Orcs were occupied with killing the Evil Dwarves, and the Evil Dwarves were occupied with dying, I slithered away on my stomach, leaving a trail of blood, and getting dirty and probably infected.

Eventually, the sounds of warfare faded into the distance. I huddled by a rock, my clothes damp with blood and underground-lake-water, and my spirits somewhat low.

Legolas Loses Consciousness

"And then what happened?" Aragorn asked, but Legolas made no reply.

Aragorn could see nothing in the darkness of the cave, but he crawled over to Legolas's side and shook him (gingerly, because he didn't want any of Legolas's limbs to fall off). Legolas was still breathing, but he had slumped over against the wall of the cave.

After a few minutes of feeling mentally uncomfortable (because the cave no longer seemed as safe as it had), Aragorn realized that he also felt physically uncomfortable (because he was seriously wounded). He was pretty sure he had cracked a rib. He poked the rib to ascertain the truth, and discovered that he had indeed cracked it.

Then he quietly passed out.

Some Time Later

Aragorn wakened to a strange sensation. He was lying on his back with one leg in the air, and he seemed to be moving. Backwards. In fact, he was being dragged along the ground by one foot and his head kept knocking against rocks and stalagmites. No, stalactites. No, stalagmites. Whatever. The ones on the ground.

Also, someone was talking.

"Anywhere can be dark. A room with all the lights off. A cloudy night. Anywhere when you have your eyes closed really tightly. Yes. Exactly. And anywhere can be cold. If it's winter. Or night. Or not warm for some reason. And anywhere can have a low ceiling, as long as it has a ceiling. And huge eyeless fish that eat people are also… very… common…"

The voice faltered, then resumed with a note of fresh—and possibly desperate—good cheer.

"In fact, this might not even be a cave at all! So what if its dark and cold and infested with dangerous creatures. I scoff at dangerous creatures! 'Scoff, scoff,' say I!"

"Hey," Aragorn said. "What—argh."

His head had cracked against a particularly vicious and unyielding stalagmite. Definitely a stalagmite. Stalactites, he remembered suddenly, are the ones that smack you in the face when you're vertical and innocently walking around. Stalagmites are the ones that gore you when you trip and fall on them. Elementary.

"I see. Um, how much blood have you lost, if you don't mind my asking?"

"Just a trifle," Legolas said. He kept dragging Aragorn through the cave.

"Maybe we should stop for a bit and rethink this strategy," Aragorn said, grabbing a stalagmite and refusing to let go. "Caves make great places of refuge, but not necessarily good places to wander around forever."

Well, my spirits were somewhat low, as I said earlier. I had been attacked by Orcs, separated from my father, savaged by bats, fish, and evil dwarves, and was now wet, cold, and nearly dead from loss of blood. I tried thinking happy thoughts, but few came to mind. It is strange, given the amount of terrible things that happened to me in my childhood, but I had never been lost in a cave before.

Fortunately, I was not lost much longer. I was huddled beside a rock, as you may recall. Eventually I became faint and swooned against it, and it rolled away, and I saw the murky light of day.

I was able to crawl through the hole and find my way home. My family was surprised (but, I think, pleased) to see me again so soon. They had been sure I was being mauled by Orcs or Ringwraiths, and in those circumstances, it usually takes me at least two to four months to get back. So I had a bath and got patched up, and Dad threw me a feast, and then I went to bed.

The next morning, I felt glad to be alive, and, in my youthful zeal, decided to clean my room.

Aragorn Interrupts

"Wait… you were happy, so you decided to clean your room?"

"Yes."

"Apparently we are very different people," Aragorn said.

"Yes."

Legolas Cleans his Room

There's not really much more to say. I was standing on a stool to put some clothes on a top shelf, and suddenly they toppled and fell crashing on my head. In their swift descent, they overbalanced some boxes, and the boxes knocked over some of my weapons—you know, spears and arrows and things—and those knocked over my stool, and I was pitched headfirst into my closet and buried in my belongings.

And, anyway, I was trapped in my closet for two days. My closet, if you remember, is just part of the big cave I call home.

And that's about it, really.

Aragorn Can't Believe What He's Just Heard

"So… you were trapped in your own closet for two days?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"Everyone knew I was supposedly safe at home, so no one thought to look for me," Legolas said. "And I had a lot of clothes; they were surprisingly heavy—you know, all combined on top of me like that. Also, I was weak and disoriented from my earlier cave adventures."

"And that's why you hate caves? That's the reason?"

"Have you ever experienced such a cruel, unexpected betrayal? Your own closet swallowing you whole for two days when, filled with joy and exuberance, you were only trying to help it?"

"I've never tried to help my closet," Aragorn said honestly.

"There were spiders in there!" Legolas said. "Large spiders! Not to mention several varieties of mold."

What Happened Next

They sat in reflective silence. Aragorn could feel his wounds congealing, which was gross but somewhat reassuring.

"So," he said. "How do we get out of here?"

"I'm sorry. I panicked and dragged you away from the entrance."

"I noticed."

"But I can follow the smell of your blood all the way back."

"Really? All the way back?"

"Yes. You were bleeding an awful lot. We should be out of here in a few minutes."

"And you're sure that unfriendly mob of Elf-hating humans will be gone by then?"

"They've probably all been killed by the wargs by now," Legolas said.

"Yeah, probably."

Aragorn staggered to his feet, leaning against the slimy wall. "You know, this has been a strangely uneventful cave experience."